Slugs and Snails
by Scandalacious Intentions
Summary: There is no good and evil. There is only power and those too weak to see it. The night of Anna's death, Peter reflects on weakness and sacrifice. Sort of sequel to Sugar and Spice.


**Disclaimer: It's all J.K.'s and it's not stealing, it's borrowing and torturing without permission.**

**A/N: Another instalment of my Marauder-verse Chronicles. This follows on from Sugar and Spice so really, don't read without having read it or you won't get it at all.**

_March 26__th__ 1981_

Somehow, in the home of the Mulcibers, their meetings didn't seem so dark. It was impossible to think of himself as the man who was betraying not only his friends but everything they stood for when he was sitting in a kitchen painted the exact shade of the eastern sky at sunrise, an incredibly pale blue.

It was difficult to see himself as a Death Eater when he sat at the table, opposite Mrs. Mulciber, accepting sweet tea and biscuits, gossiping about his friends. The pang of regret would strike when she would laugh at the escapades of James and Sirius and enquire after Remus with wide eyes, leaning closer and smiling encouragingly. She cared about them more than he did.

Peter shuddered, remembering their last conversation.

"_You're not spying for James? Peter, I thought-"_

"_You thought wrong."_

"_You're one of them?"_

"_What's to be gained in fighting the most powerful wizard who ever lived?"_

_Anna paused. "I don't know, but I do know that it's better to go out in a blaze of glory and be remembered and admired than it is to lurk in the shadows, waiting to pounce."_

She had hit the nail right on the head. Should Voldemort fall, contacts in the Order of the Phoenix would certainly work to his advantage. Should he succeed, he - Peter - would live and be rewarded for the information he could give. He was a lurker in the shadows, always waiting for opportunity, but what was the harm in that? Nature's law was survival of the fittest, after all.

Anna had been weak. She had let her heart rule her head. There was no room for weakness in the world of a Death Eater. Kill or be killed. Anna had chosen to save Remus. Well, bully for her.

Peter shivered in the bitter night air. One glance from Mulciber and he immediately returned to his digging with renewed energy.

"Can you close her eyes or something?" Peter snapped, averting his own and trying not to remember what he was doing and why.

Mulciber shook his head. "They were my favourite thing about her, you know. She could see right through people with those eyes."

Peter frowned but said no more on the subject. He knew why he had been elected. He couldn't betray Mulciber. He was the only man who could be relied upon not to judge and report. He was also the best line spinner Mulciber had come across and he had concocted a wonderful, truly marvellous half truth.

"_She turned traitor; decided she loved the half-breed. She turned her wand on me and I had to kill her. He was enough of a coward to run before I could do the same to him."_

Finite Incantatum would prove it.

And now they were burying her in the back garden, away from prying eyes. In a flash, it occurred to Peter that there was no-one now to keep him in line. There was no-one to make him feel normal or question his motives. There was no-one to remind him that he was a human being.

No threat remained. Anna was moral enough to tell Remus if he stepped out of line and the harsh fact was that she held more sway with Remus than he ever would and deep down, despite Sirius' doubts, Remus held more sway with Sirius than he did too. As for Sirius' sway over James, Sirius was God and thy will be done.

Peter grinned. With Anna out of the way, all he had to do was ensure that the others did not become suspicious of him. He leaned on his shovel and bit his thumb nail. James was too blind to see, Remus was too trusting to question him, but Sirius - Peter ripped off a strip of his nail and winced. No, Sirius would guess and once Sirius got an idea in his head, that was the end of that.

All he needed to do was increase Sirius' suspicions about Remus and he would be on easy street. It was the answer to all his problems and with Anna dead and almost buried, Remus would never be any the wiser. He resisted the urge to smile again for fear that Mulciber catch him and turn their handiwork into a mass grave.

It was a shame, thought Peter, that it should be Remus. Remus was the only decent man he knew. For the life of him, he couldn't fathom why Remus would want to spend time with people like James, Sirius and even himself. Peter frowned. He was a dark creature, that was why. He shuddered. He was friends with a dark creature; a werewolf, a half-breed. It was disgusting really. Remus Lupin may have been the only decent man he knew but it didn't make him any less a mere pretty boy whose potions Peter regularly had to fix before they became weapons of mass destruction.

"_Peter, help!"_

_Peter glanced over at his friend's work. "What the hell have you done to it?"_

"_I don't know," Lupin hissed. "Why's it pink?"_

"_Why are you asking me?"_

"_Pete, please fix it. Slughorn will wear my skin if I fuck up again."_

No-one ever paid any attention to those conversations though. The only interactions James appeared to hear seemed to be:

"_Where's Venus?"_

"_It's at 42:56:12," Lupin replied, peering at the co-ordinates of his telescope. _

"_Where?"_

_Lupin rolled his eyes. "Left."_

Well, he'd show them how clever he could be; cleverer than pretty boy and his fucking telescope. Peter took a deep breath. They had created him and they could suffer him. What did it matter? He couldn't provide any information other than; "It's Sirius. I don't know anything else. It's Sirius."

He was made of Polyjuice Potion, brewing it in their bathroom for a month and changing into one another for kicks. Being Sirius - even for an hour - was fun. He had strolled into the common room and draped himself over the sofa in a very Sirius-esque manner and no-one had been any the wiser.

He was made of rat poison. James had grabbed him by the tail and shaken it out of his mouth. Stupid animal instinct. It took a hold over him much stronger than it did James and Sirius. He had been made to feel stupid then too. "What the fuck would have happened if you'd have died, Peter?" Peter snorted and threw down the shovel. "You wouldn't," he muttered.

He was made of pickled cabbage. Summer at Lupin's was always a tremendous amount of fun until he had been presented with a mound of red cabbage that he had been too polite to refuse. Even Remus - who adored his mother and her cooking - had covered it with a slice of bread as one might cover a roadside victim.

He was made of Cockroach Clusters. James had offered him one before they became friends and had to take him to the Hospital Wing because he'd choked on one.

He was made of illicit Butterbeer. He was sure they had forgotten his fourteenth birthday until he opened the door of their dormitory and found banners on the walls and a singing cuckoo from the clock swooping around him while it whistled Happy Birthday slightly off key. That had to have been Lupin's handiwork - although he was fairly sure that James had stolen it out of the clock. They had sandwiches and Cauldron Cakes and Liquorice Wands and Butterbeer; lots of it. At fourteen, he had been trashed.

Peter sighed. He didn't belong here. As he took hold of Anna's torso and flung her into the pit they had dug, he wished he had her weakness.

_There is no good and evil. There is only power and those too weak to see it._


End file.
